There are ideal series of events which run parallel with the real ones. They rarely coincide. Men and circumstances generally
modify the ideal train of events, so that it seems imperfect, and its consequences are equally imperfect. Thus with the Reformation;
instead of Protestantism came Lutheranism. — Novalis. Moral Ansichten.

THERE are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who have not occasionally been
startled into a vague yet thrilling half-credence in the supernatural, by coincidences of so seemingly marvellous a character
that, as mere coincidences, the intellect has been unable to receive them. Such sentiments — for the half-credences of
which I speak have never the full force of thought — such sentiments are seldom thoroughly stifled unless by reference to
the doctrine of chance, or, as it is technically termed, the Calculus of Probabilities. Now this Calculus is, in its essence, purely
mathematical; and thus we have the anomaly of the most rigidly exact in science applied to the shadow and spirituality of the most
intangible in speculation.

The extraordinary details which I am now called upon to make public, will be found to form, as regards sequence of
time, the primary branch of a series of scarcely intelligible coincidences, whose secondary or concluding branch will be
recognized by all readers in the late murder of MARY CECILIA ROGERS, at New York.

When, in an article entitled “The Murders in the Rue Morgue,” I endeavored, about a year ago, to depict
some very remarkable features in the mental character of my friend, the Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin, it did not occur to me that I should
ever resume the subject. This depicting of character constituted my design; and this design was thoroughly fulfilled in the wild train
of circumstances brought to instance Dupin’s idiosyncrasy. I might have adduced other examples, but I should have proven no more.
Late events, however, in their surprizing development, have startled me into some farther details, which will carry with them the air of
extorted confession. Hearing what I have lately heard, it would be indeed strange should I remain silent in regard to what I both heard
and saw so long ago.

Upon the winding up of the tragedy involved in the [column 2:] deaths of Madame L’Espanaye and her
daughter, the Chevalier dismissed the affair at once from his attention, and relapsed into his old habits of moody reverie. Prone, at
all times, to abstraction, I readily fell in with his humor; and, continuing to occupy our chambers in the Faubourg Saint Germain, we
gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the Present, weaving the dull world around us into dreams.

But these dreams were not altogether uninterrupted. It may readily be supposed that the part played by my friend, in
the drama, at the Rue Morgue, had not failed of its impression upon the fancies of the Parisian police. With its emissaries, the name of
Dupin had grown into a household word. The simple character of those inductions by which he had disentangled the mystery never having
been explained even to the Prefect, or to any other individual than myself, of course it is not surprizing that the affair was regarded
[[as]] little less than miraculous, or that the Chevalier’s analytical abilities acquired for him the credit of intuition. His
frankness would have led him to disabuse every inquirer of such prejudice; but his indolent humor forbade all farther agitation on a
topic whose interest to himself had long ceased. It thus happened that he found himself the cynosure of the policial eyes; and the cases
were not few in which attempt was made to engage his services at the Prefecture. The only instance, nevertheless, in which such attempt
proved successful, was the instance to which I have already alluded — that of the murder of a young girl named Marie Rogêt.

This event occurred about two years after the atrocity in the Rue Morgue. Marie, whose Christian and family name will
at once arrest attention from their resemblance to those of the unfortunate “segar-girl,” was the only daughter of the widow
Estelle Rogêt. The father had died during the child’s infancy, and from the period of his death, until within eighteen
months before the assassination which forms the subject of our narrative, the mother and daughter had dwelt together in the Rue
Pavée Saint Andrée; Madame there keeping a pension, assisted by Marie. Affairs went on thus until the latter had
attained her twenty-second year, when her great beauty attracted the notice of a perfumer, who occupied one of the shops in the basement
of the Palais Royal, and whose custom lay chiefly among the desperate adventurers infesting that neighborhood. Monsieur Le Blanc was not
unaware of the advantages to be derived from the attendance of the fair Marie in his parfumerie; and his liberal proposals were
accepted eagerly by the girl, but with somewhat more of hesitation by Madame.

The anticipations of the shopkeeper were realized, and his rooms soon became notorious through the charms of the
sprightly grisette. She had been in his employ about a year, when her admirers were thrown into confusion by her sudden
disappearance from the shop. Monsieur Le Blanc was unable to account for her absence, and Madame Rogêt was distracted with anxiety
and terror. The public papers immediately [page 16:] took up the theme, and the
police were upon the point of making serious investigations, when, one fine morning, after the lapse of a week, Marie, in good health,
but with a somewhat saddened air, made her re-appearance at her usual counter in the parfumerie. All inquiry, except that of a
private character, was of course immediately hushed. Monsieur Le Blanc professed total ignorance, as before. Marie, with Madame, replied
to all questions, that the last week had been spent at the house of a relation in the country. Thus the affair died away, and was
generally forgotten; for the girl, ostensibly to relieve herself from the impertinence of curiosity, soon bade a final adieu to the
perfumer, and sought the shelter of her mother’s residence in the Rue Pavée Saint Andrée.

It was about five months after this return home, that her friends were alarmed by her sudden disappearance for the
second time. Three days elapsed, and nothing was heard of her. On the fourth her corpse was found floating in the Seine, near the shore
which is opposite the Quartier of the Rue Saint Andrée, and at a point not very far distant from the secluded neighborhood of the
Barrière du Roule.

The atrocity of this murder, (for it was at once evident that murder had been committed,) the youth and beauty of the
victim, and, above all, her previous notoriety, conspired to produce intense excitement in the minds of the sensitive Parisians. I can
call to mind no similar occurrence producing so general and so intense an effect. For several weeks, in the discussing of this one
absorbing theme, even the momentous political topics of the day were forgotten. The Prefect made unusual exertions; and the powers of
the whole Parisian police were, of course, tasked to the utmost extent.

Upon the first discovery of the corpse, it was not supposed that the murderer would be able to elude, for more than a
very brief period, the inquisition which was immediately set on foot. It was not until the expiration of a week that it was deemed
necessary to offer a reward; and even then this reward was limited to a thousand francs. In the mean time the investigation proceeded
with vigor, if not always with judgment, and numerous individuals were examined to no purpose; while, owing to the continual absence of
all clue to the mystery, the popular excitement became greatly increased. At the end of the tenth day it was thought advisable to double
the sum originally proposed; and, at length, the second week having elapsed without leading to any discoveries, and the prejudice which
always exists in Paris against the police having given vent to itself in several serious émeutes, the Prefect took it upon
himself to offer the sum of twenty thousand francs “for the conviction of the assassin,” or, if more than one should prove
to have been implicated, [[“]]for the conviction of any one of the assassins.” In the proclamation setting forth this
reward, a full pardon was promised to any accomplice who should come forward in evidence against his fellow; and to the whole was
appended, wherever it appeared, the private placard of a committee of citizens, offering ten thousand francs, in addition to the amount
proposed by the Prefecture. [column 2:] The entire reward thus stood at no less than thirty thousand francs, which will be
regarded as an extraordinary sum when we consider the humble condition of the girl, and the great frequency[[,]] in large cities, of
such atrocities as the one described.

No one doubted now that the mystery of this murder would be immediately brought to light. But although, in one or two
instances, arrests were made which promised elucidation, yet nothing was elicited which could implicate the parties suspected, and they
were discharged forthwith. Strange as it may appear, the third week from the discovery of the body had passed, and passed without any
light being thrown upon the subject, before even a rumor of the events which had so agitated the public mind, reached the ears of Dupin
and myself. Engaged in researches which had absorbed our whole attention, it had been nearly a month since either of us had gone abroad,
or received a visitor, or more than glanced at the leading political articles in one of the daily papers. The first intelligence of the
murder was brought us by G——, in person. He called upon us early in the afternoon of the thirteenth of July, 18—, and
remained with us until late in the night. He had been piqued by the failure of all his endeavors to ferret out the assassins. His
reputation — so he said with a peculiarly Parisian air — was at stake. Even his honor was concerned. The eyes of the public
were upon him; and there was really no sacrifice which he would not be willing to make for the development of the mystery. He concluded
a somewhat droll speech with a compliment upon what he was pleased to term the tact of Dupin, and made him a direct, and
certainly a liberal proposition, the precise nature of which I do not feel myself at liberty to disclose, but which has no bearing upon
the proper subject of my narrative.

The compliment my friend rebutted as best he could, but the proposition he accepted at once, although its advantages
were altogether provisional. This point being settled, the Prefect broke forth at once into explanations of his own views, interspersing
them with long comments upon the evidence; of which latter we were not yet in possession. He discoursed much, and beyond doubt,
learnedly; while I hazarded an occasional suggestion as the night wore drowsily away. Dupin, sitting steadily in his accustomed
arm-chair, was the embodiment of respectful attention. He wore spectacles, during the whole interview; and an occasional glance beneath
their green glasses, sufficed to convince me that he slept not the less soundly, because silently[[,]] throughout the seven or eight
leaden-footed hours which immediately preceded the departure of the Prefect.

In the morning, I procured, at the Prefecture, a full report of all the evidence elicited, and, at the various
newspaper offices, a copy of every paper in which, from first to last, had been published any decisive information in regard to this sad
affair. Freed from all that was positively disproved, this mass of information stood thus:

Marie Rogêt left the residence of her mother, in the [page 17:] Rue Pavée St. Andrée, about nine o’clock in the morning of Sunday, June the
twenty-second, 18—. In going out, she gave notice to a Monsieur Jacques [[St.]] Eustache, and to him only, of her intention to
spend the day with an aunt who resided in the Rue des Drômes. The Rue des Drômes is a short and narrow but populous
thoroughfare, not far from the banks of the river, and at a distance of some two miles, in the most direct course possible, from the
pension of Madame Rogêt. St. Eustache was the accepted suitor of Marie, and lodged, as well as took his meals, at the
pension. He was to have gone for his betrothed at dusk, and to have escorted her home. In the afternoon, however, it came on to
rain heavily; and, supposing that she would remain all night at her aunt’s, (as she had done under similar circumstances before,)
he did not think it necessary to keep his promise. As night drew on, Madame Rogêt (who was an infirm old lady, seventy years of
age,) was heard to express a fear “that she should never see Marie again;” but this observation attracted little attention
at the time.

On Monday, it was ascertained that the girl had not been to the Rue des Drômes; and when the day elapsed without
tidings of her, a tardy search was instituted at several points in the city, and its environs. It was not, however, until the fourth day
from the period of her disappearance that any thing satisfactory was ascertained respecting her. On this day, (Wednesday, the
twenty-fifth of June,) a Monsieur Beauvais, who, with a friend, had been making inquiries for Marie near the Barrière du Roule,
on the shore of the Seine, which is opposite the Rue Pavée St. Andrée, was informed that a corpse had just been towed
ashore by some fishermen, who had found it floating in the river. Upon seeing the body, Beauvais, after some hesitation, identified it
as that of the perfumery[[-]]girl. His friend recognized it more promptly.

The face was suffused with dark blood, some of which issued from the mouth. No foam was seen, as in the case of the
merely drowned. There was no discoloration in the cellular tissue. About the throat were bruises and impressions of fingers. The arms
were bent over on the chest and were rigid. The right hand was clenched; the left partially open. On the left wrist were two circular
excoriations, apparently the effect of ropes, or of a rope in more than one volution. A part of the right wrist, also, was much chafed,
as well as the back throughout its extent, but more especially at the shoulder-blades. In bringing the body to the shore the fishermen
had attached to it a rope; but none of the excoriations had been effected by this. The flesh of the neck was much swollen. There were no
cuts apparent, or bruises which appeared the effect of blows. A piece of lace was found tied so tightly around the neck as to be hidden
from sight; it was completely buried in the flesh, and was fastened by a knot which lay just under the left ear. This alone would have
sufficed to produce death. The medical testimony spoke confidently of the virtuous character of the deceased. She had been subjected to
brutal violence. The corpse was in such condition when found, that there could have been no difficulty in its recognition by friends.
[column 2:]

The dress was much torn and otherwise disordered. In the outer garment, a slip, about a foot wide, had been torn upward
from the bottom hem to the waist, but not torn off. It was wound three times around the waist, and secured by a sort of hitch in the
back. The dress immediately beneath the frock was of fine muslin; and from this a slip eighteen inches wide had been torn entirely out
— torn very evenly and with great care. It was found around her neck, fitting loosely, and secured with a hard knot. Over this
muslin slip and the slip of lace, the strings of a bonnet were attached; the bonnet being appended. The knot by which the strings of the
bonnet were fastened, was not a lady’s, but a slip or sailor’s knot.

After the recognition of the corpse, it was not, as usual, taken to the Morgue, (this formality being superfluous,) but
hastily interred not far from the spot at which it was brought ashore. Through the exertions of Beauvais, the matter was industriously
hushed up, as far as possible; and several days had elapsed before any public emotion resulted. A weekly paper, however, at length took
up the theme; the corpse was disinterred, and a rē-examination instituted; and nothing was elicited beyond what has been already
noted. The clothes, however, were now submitted to the mother and friends of the deceased, and fully identified as those worn by the
girl upon leaving home.

Meantime, the excitement increased hourly. Several individuals were arrested and discharged. St. Eustache fell
especially under suspicion; and he failed at first, to give an intelligible account of his whereabouts during the Sunday on which Marie
left home. Subsequently, however, he submitted to Monsieur G——, affidavits, accounting satisfactorily for every hour of the
day in question. As time passed and no discovery ensued, a thousand contradictory rumors were circulated, and journalists busied
themselves in suggestions. Among these, the one which attracted the most notice, was the idea that Marie Rogêt still lived
— that the corpse found in the Seine was that of some other unfortunate. It will be proper that I submit to the reader some
passages which embody the suggestion alluded to. These passages are literal translations from “L’Etoile,” a
small daily print conducted, in general, with much ability.

“Mademoiselle Rogêt left her mother’s house on Sunday morning, June the twenty-second, 18 —,
with the ostensible purpose of going to see her aunt, or some other connexion, in the Rue des Drômes. From that hour, nobody is
proved to have seen her. There is no trace or tidings of her at all. **** There has no person, whatever, come forward, so far, who saw her at all,
on that day, after she left her mother’s door. **** Now, though we have no evidence that Marie Rogêt was in the land
of the living after nine o’clock on Sunday, June the twenty-second, we have proof that, up to that hour, she was alive. On
Wednesday noon, at twelve, a female body was discovered afloat on the shore of the Barrière du Roule. This was, even if we
presume that Marie Rogêt was thrown into the river within three hours after she left her mother’s house, only three days
from the time she left her home — three days to an hour. But it is folly to suppose that the murder, if murder was committed on
her body, could have been consummated soon enough to have enabled her murderers to throw the body into the river before midnight.
Those who are guilty of such horrid crimes, choose darkness rather than light. **** Thus we see that if the body found in the river was that of Marie
Rogêt, it could only have been in the water two and a half days, or three at the outside. All experience has shown that drowned
bodies, or bodies thrown into the water immediately after death by violence, require from [page 18:] six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to take place to bring them to the top of the water. Even
where a cannon is fired over a corpse, and it rises before at least five or six days’ immersion, it sinks again, if let alone.
Now, we ask, what was there in this case to cause a departure from the ordinary course of nature? *** If the body had been kept in its mangled state on shore until Tuesday
night, some trace would be found on shore of the murderers. It is a doubtful point, also, whether the body would be so soon afloat,
even were it thrown in after having been dead two days. And, furthermore, it is exceedingly improbable that any villains who had
committed such a murder as is here supposed, would have thrown the body in without weight to sink it, when such a precaution could
have so easily been taken.”

[The editor here proceeds to argue that the body must have been in the water “not three days merely, but, at
least, five times three days,” because it was so far decomposed that Beauvais had great difficulty in recognizing it. This latter
point, however, was fully disproved. We continue our translation:]

“What, then, are the facts on which M. Beauvais says that he has no doubt the body was that of Marie
Rogêt? He ripped up the gown sleeve, and says he found marks which satisfied him of the identity. The public generally supposed
those marks to have consisted of some description of scars. He rubbed the arm and found hair upon it — something as
indefinite, we think, as can readily be imagined — as little conclusive as finding an arm in the sleeve. M. Beauvais did not
return that night, but sent word to Madame Rogêt, at seven o’clock, on Wednesday evening, that an investigation was still
in progress respecting her daughter. If we allow that Madame Rogêt, from her age and grief, could not go over, (which is
allowing a great deal,) there certainly must have been some one who would have thought it worth while to go over and attend the
investigation, if they thought the body was that of Marie. Nobody went over. There was nothing said or heard about the matter in the
Rue Pavée St. Andrée, that reached even the occupants of the same building. M. St. Eustache, the lover and intended
husband of Marie, who boarded in her mother’s house, deposes that he did not hear of the discovery of the body of his intended
until the next morning, when M. Beauvais came into his chamber and told him of it. For an item of news like this, it strikes us it was
very coolly received.”

[In this way the journal endeavored to create the impression of an apathy on the part of the relatives of Marie,
inconsistent with the supposition that these relatives believed the corpse to be her’s. Its insinuations amount to this: —
that Marie, with the connivance of her friends, had absented herself from the city for reasons involving a charge against her chastity;
and that these friends, upon the discovery of a corpse in the Seine, somewhat resembling that of the girl, had availed themselves of the
opportunity to impress the public with the belief of her death. But ‘[[“]]L’Etoile,’[[“]] was again
over-hasty. It was distinctly proved that no apathy, such as was imagined, existed; that the old lady was exceedingly feeble, and so
agitated as to be unable to attend to any duty; that St. Eustache, so far from receiving the news coolly, was distracted with grief, and
bore himself so frantically, that M. Beauvais prevailed upon a friend and relative to take charge of him, and prevent his attending the
examination at the disinterment. Moreover, although it was stated by “L’Etoile,” that the corpse was re-interred at
the public expense, — that an advantageous offer of private sepulture was absolutely declined by the family — and that no
member of the family attended the ceremonial: — although, I say, all this was asserted by “L’Etoile,” in
furtherance of the impression it designed to convey — yet all this was satisfactorily disproved. In a subsequent number of
the paper, an attempt was made to throw suspicion upon Beauvais himself. The editor says:] [column 2:]

“Now, then, a change comes over the matter. We are told that, on one occasion, while a Madame B——,
was at Madame Rogêt’s house, M. Beauvais, who was going out, told her that a gendarme was expected there, and that
she, Madame B., must not say any thing to the gendarme until he returned, but let the matter be for him. **** In the present posture of affairs, M. Beauvais appears to have the whole
matter locked up in his head. A single step cannot be taken without M. Beauvais; for, go which way you will, you run against him.
***** For some reason, he determined that nobody shall have any thing to do
with the proceedings but himself, and he has elbowed the male relatives out of the way, according to their representations, in a very
singular manner. He seems to have been very much averse to permitting the relatives to see the body.”

[Some color was given to the suspicion thus thrown upon Beauvais, by the following fact. A visitor at his office, a few
days prior to the girl’s disappearance, and during the absence of its occupant, had observed a rose in the key-hole of the
door, and the name “Marie,” inscribed upon a slate which hung near at hand.

The general impression, so far as we were enabled to glean it from the newspapers, seemed to be, that Marie had been
the victim of a gang of desperadoes — that by these she had been borne across the river, maltreated and murdered. “Le
Commerciel,” however, a print of extensive influence, was earnest in combating this popular idea. I quote a passage or two from
its columns:]

“We are persuaded that pursuit has hitherto been on a false scent, so far as it has been directed to the
Barrière du Roule. It is impossible that a person so well known to thousands as this young woman was, should have passed three
blocks without some one having seen her; and any one who saw her would have remembered it, for she interested all who knew her. It was
when the streets were full of people, when she went out. **** It is impossible that she could have gone to the Barrière du
Roule, or to the Rue des Drômes, without being recognized by a dozen persons; yet no one has come forward who saw her outside of
her mother’s door, and there is no evidence, except the testimony concerning her expressed intentions, that she did go
out at all. Her gown was torn, bound round her, and tied; and by that the body was carried as a bundle. If the murder had been
committed at the Barrière du Roule, there would have been no necessity for any such arrangement. The fact that the body was
found floating near the Barrière, is no proof as to where it was thrown into the water. ***** A piece of one of the unfortunate girl’s petticoats, two feet
long and one foot wide, was torn out and tied under her chin around the back of her head, probably to prevent screams. This was done
by fellows who had no pocket-handkerchief.”

A day or two before the Prefect called upon us, however, some important information reached the police, which seemed to
overthrow, at least, the chief portion of Le Commerciel’s argument. Two small boys, sons of a Madame Deluc, while roaming among
the woods near the Barrière du Roule, chanced to penetrate a close thicket, within which were three or four large stones, forming
a kind of seat, with a back and footstool. On the upper stone lay a white petticoat; on the second a silk scarf. A parasol, gloves, and
a pocket-handkerchief were also here found. The handkerchief bore the name “Marie Rogêt.” Fragments of dress were
discovered on the brambles around. The earth was trampled, the bushes were broken, and there was every evidence of a struggle. Between
the thicket and the river, the fences were found taken down, and the ground bore evidence of some heavy burthen having been dragged
along it.

A weekly paper, “Le Soleil,” had the following comments upon this discovery — comments which merely
echoed the sentiment of the whole Parisian press: [page 19:]

“The things had all evidently been there at least three or four weeks; they were all mildewed down hard with
the action of the rain, and stuck together from mildew. The grass had grown around and over some of them. The silk on the parasol was
strong, but the threads of it were run together within. The upper part, where it had been doubled and folded, was all mildewed and
rotten, and tore on its being opened. **** The pieces of her frock torn out by the bushes were about three
inches wide and six inches long. One part was the hem of the frock, and it had been mended; the other piece was part of the skirt, not
the hem. They looked like strips torn off, and were on the thorn bush, about a foot from the ground. ***** There can be no doubt, therefore, that the spot of this appalling
outrage has been discovered.”

Consequent upon this discovery, new evidence appeared. Madame Deluc testified that she keeps a roadside inn not far
from the bank of the river, opposite the Barrière du Roule. The neighborhood is secluded — particularly so. It is the usual
Sunday resort of blackguards from the city, who cross the river in boats. About three o’clock, in the afternoon of the Sunday in
question, a young girl arrived at the inn, accompanied by a young man of dark complexion. The two remained here for some time. On their
departure, they took the road to some thick woods in the vicinity. Madame Deluc’s attention was called to the dress worn by the
girl, on account of its resemblance to one worn by a deceased relative. A scarf was particularly noticed. Soon after the departure of
the couple, a gang of miscreants made their appearance, behaved boisterously, ate and drank without making payment, followed in the
route of the young man and girl, returned to the inn about dusk, and re-crossed the river as if in great haste.

It was soon after dark, upon this same evening, that Madame Deluc, as well as her eldest son, heard the screams of a
female in the vicinity of the inn. The screams were violent but brief. Madame D. recognized not only the scarf which was found in the
thicket, but the dress which was discovered upon the corpse. An omnibus driver, Valence, now also testified that he saw Marie
Rogêt cross a ferry on the Seine, on the Sunday in question, in company with a young man of dark complexion. He, Valence, knew
Marie, and could not be mistaken in her identity. The articles found in the thicket were fully identified by the relatives of Marie.

The items of evidence and information thus collected by myself, from the newspapers, at the suggestion of Dupin,
embraced only one more point — but this was a point of seemingly vast consequence. It appears that, immediately after the
discovery of the clothes as above described, the lifeless, or nearly lifeless body of St. Eustache, Marie’s betrothed, was found
in the vicinity of what all now supposed the scene of the outrage. A phial labelled “laudanum,” and emptied, was found near
him. His breath gave evidence of the poison. He died without speaking. Upon his person was found a letter, briefly stating his love for
Marie, with his design of self-destruction.

“I need scarcely tell you,” said Dupin, as he finished the perusal of my notes, “that this is a far
more intricate case than that of the Rue Morgue; from which it differs in one important respect. This is an ordinary, although an
atrocious instance of crime. There is nothing peculiarly outré about it. You will observe [column 2:] that, for
this reason, the mystery has been considered easy, when, for this reason, it should have been considered difficult of solution. Thus, at
first, it was thought unnecessary to offer a reward. The myrmidons of G—— were able at once to comprehend how and why such
an atrocity might have been committed. They could picture to their imaginations a mode — many modes — and a motive
— many motives; and because it was not impossible that either of these numerous modes and motives could have been the
actual one, they have taken it for granted that one of them must. But the ease with which these variable fancies were
entertained, and the very plausibility which each assumed, should have been understood as indicative rather of the difficulties than of
the facilities which must attend elucidation. I have before observed that it is by prominences above the plane of the ordinary, that
reason feels her way, if at all, in her search for the true, and that the proper question in cases such as this, is not so much
‘what has occurred?’ as ‘what has occurred that has never occurred before?’ In the investigations at the house
of Madame L’Espanaye,* the agents of G—— were discouraged and confounded by that
very unusualness which, to a properly regulated intellect, would have afforded the sweet omen of success; while this same
intellect might have been plunged in despair at the especially ordinary character of all that met the eye in the case of the
perfumery[[-]]girl, and yet told of nothing but easy triumph to the functionaries of the Prefecture.

“In the case of Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter, there was, even at the beginning of our investigation,
no doubt that murder had been committed. The idea of suicide was excluded at once. Here, too, we are freed, at the commencement, from
all supposition of self-murder. The body found at the Barrière du Roule, was found under such circumstances as to leave us no
room for embarrassment upon this important point. But it has been suggested that the corpse discovered, is not that of the Marie
Rogêt, for the conviction of whose assassin, or assassins, the reward is offered, and respecting whom, solely, our agreement has
been arranged with the Prefect. We both know this gentleman well. It will not do to trust him too far. If, dating our inquiries from the
body found, and thence tracing a murderer, we yet discover this body to be that of some other individual than Marie; or, if starting
from the living Marie, we find her, yet find her unassassinated — in either case we lose our labor; since it is Monsieur
G—— with whom we have to deal. For our own purpose, therefore, if not for the purpose of justice, it is indispensable that
our first step should be the determination of the identity of the corpse with the Marie Rogêt who is missing.

“I know not what effect the arguments of ‘L’Etoile’ may have wrought upon your own
understanding. With the public they had had weight; and that the Journal itself is convinced of their importance would appear from the
manner in which it commences one of [page 20:] its essays upon the subject —
‘Several of the morning papers of the day,’ it says,’speak of the conclusive article in Monday’s
‘Etoile.’ To me, this article appears conclusive of little beyond the zeal of its inditer. We should bear in mind that, in
general, it is the object of our newspapers rather to create a sensation — to make a point — than to further the cause of
truth. The latter end is only pursued when it seems coincident with the former. The print which merely falls in with ordinary opinion
(however well founded this opinion may be) earns for itself no credit with the mob. The mass of the people regard as profound only him
who suggests pungent contradictions of the general idea. In ratiocination, not less than in literature, it is the epigram
which is the most immediately and the most universally appreciated. In both, it is of the lowest order of merit.

“What I mean to say is, that it is the mingled epigram and melodrame of the idea, that Marie Rogêt still
lives, rather than any true plausibility in this idea, which has suggested it to ‘L’Etoile,’ and secured it a
favorable reception with the public. Let us examine the heads of the argument; endeavoring to avoid the incoherence with which it is
originally set forth.

“The first aim of the writer is to show, from the brevity of the interval between Marie’s disappearance and
the finding of the floating corpse, that this corpse cannot be that of Marie. The reduction of this interval to its smallest possible
dimension, becomes thus, at once, an object with the reasoner. In the rash pursuit of this object, he rushes into mere assumption at the
outset. ‘It is folly to suppose,’ he says, ‘that the murder, if murder was committed on her body, would have been
consummated soon enough to have enabled her murderers to throw the body into the river before midnight.’ We demand at once, and
very naturally, why? Why is it folly to suppose that the murder was committed within five minutes after the girl’s
quitting her mother’s house? Why is it folly to suppose that the murder was committed at any given period of the day? There have
been assassinations at all hours. But, had the murder taken place at any moment between nine o’clock in the morning of Sunday, and
a quarter before midnight, there would still have been time enough ‘to throw the body into the river before midnight.’ This
assumption, then, amounts precisely to this — that the murder was not committed on Sunday at all — and, if we allow it to
assume this, we may permit it any liberties whatever. The paragraph beginning ‘It is folly to suppose that the murder,
etc[[.]],’ however it appears as printed in L’Etoile, may be imagined to have existed actually thus in the brain of
its inditer — ‘It is folly to suppose that the murder, if murder was committed on the body, could have been committed soon
enough to have enabled her murderers to throw the body into the river before midnight; it is folly, we say, to suppose all this, and to
suppose at the same time, (as we are resolved to suppose,) that the body was not thrown in until after midnight’
— a sentence sufficiently inconsequential in itself, but not so utterly preposterous as the one printed. [column 2:]

“[[sic]] ‘[[“]]Were it my purpose,’[[”]] continued Dupin, ‘[[“]]merely
to make out a case against this passage of L’Etoile’s argument, I might safely leave it where it is. It is not,
however, with L’Etoile that we have to do, but with the truth. The sentence in question has but one meaning, as it stands; and
this meaning I have fairly stated: but it is material that we go behind the mere words, for an idea which these words have obviously
intended, and failed to convey. It was the design of the journalist to say that, at whatever period of the day or night of Sunday this
murder was committed, it was improbable that the assassins would have ventured to bear the corpse to the river before midnight. And
herein lies, really, the assumption of which we complain. It is assumed that the murder was committed at such a position, and under such
circumstances, that the bearing it to the river became necessary. Now, the assassination might have taken place upon the
river’s brink, or on the river itself; and, thus, the throwing the corpse in the water might have been resorted to, at any period
of the day or night, as the most obvious and most immediate mode of disposal. You will understand that I suggest nothing here as
probable, or as cöincident with my own opinion. My design, so far, has no reference to the facts of the case. I wish merely
to caution you against the whole tone of L’Etoile’s suggestion, by calling your attention to its ex parte
character at the outset.

“Having prescribed thus a limit to suit its own preconceived notions; having assumed that, if this were the body
of Marie, it could have been in the water but a very brief time; the journal goes on to say:

‘All experience has shown that drowned bodies, or bodies thrown into the water immediately after death by
violence, require from six to ten days for [[sufficient]] decomposition to take place to bring them to the top of the water. Even when
a cannon is fired over a corpse, and it rises before at least five or six days’ immersion, it sinks again if let alone.’

“These assertions have been tacitly received by every paper in Paris, with the exception of [[’]]Le
Moniteur.[[’]] This latter print endeavors to combat that portion of the paragraph which has reference to ‘drowned
bodies’ only, by citing some five or six instances in which the bodies of individuals known to be drowned were found floating
after the lapse of less time than is insisted upon by ‘L’Etoile.’ But there is something excessively unphilosophical
in the attempt on the part of ‘Le Moniteur,’ to rebut the general assertion of ‘L’Etoile,’ by a citation
of particular instances militating against that assertion. Had it been possible to adduce fifty instead of five examples of bodies found
floating at the end of two or three days, these fifty examples could still have been properly regarded as exceptions to alone
‘L’Etoile’s’ rule, until such time as the rule itself should be confuted. Admitting the rule, (and this
‘Le Moniteur’ does not deny, insisting merely upon its exceptions,) the argument of ‘L’Etoile’ is suffered
to remain in full force; for this argument does not pretend to involve more than a question of the probability of the body having
risen to the surface in less than three days; and this probability will be in favor of ‘L’Etoile’s’ position
until the instances so childishly adduced shall be sufficient in number to establish an antagonistical rule.